


Promises

by lacemonster



Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Choking, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Grooming, M/M, Messy, Obsession, Out of Character, Pedophilia, Rough Oral Sex, Stalking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: A request for "BruDick + Grooming"A what-if scenario where Bruce met Dick before the deaths of the Flying Graysons. Bruce is immediately attached to Dick from the first time he sees the boy perform and begins following and grooming him.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1181402
Comments: 24
Kudos: 238





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightwhelmed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwhelmed/gifts).



> THANK YOU SO MUCH REQUESTER for this delicious prompt and for being so damn patient with me as I slugged away at this. You're seriously one of the most patient and generous people I have written for and I would definitely write for you again. <3 And thank you again for letting me post this and share it with everyone else.
> 
> For all new reader, please head to the warnings. This fic is severely underage. Bruce is a giant creeper who is attracted and in love with a child and grooms him. This is what the fic is about and any complaints that didn't adhere to the warnings will be ignored and deleted.

Gasps of excitement raced through the crowd. Mary Grayson finished her double spin. She was suspended in midair for a breathtaking moment, then safely landed in her husband’s grip. Hands joined, the two swung through the air with an ease that was infectious, the crowd laughing and applauding with relief. 

Bruce Wayne watched from his reserved seat, his date hanging on his arm. The Californian socialite’s grip on his arm tightened as the Flying Graysons soared, John holding onto the thin trapeze bar by his legs, Mary dangling by his arms. One slip-up and either of them could be sent falling to a fatal end.

John released her. This sent a spike of terror through the crowd as the woman hung in the air, no arms to guide her, no net to catch her fall—but then she safely flipped onto a platform. More applause.

A booming voice came in through the overhead speakers. The crowd moved to the edge of their seats at the introduction of the third member of the Flying Graysons. Bruce watched in astonishment as the beam of light moved through the circus tent, landing on a young boy who stood on a faraway platform about thirty feet above them. The boy and his mother waved to the crowd. The boy’s smile was so big, so wide, so natural, that it didn’t feel practiced at all. The light made the gold of his costume sparkle, the shine of his dark hair stand out.

He was beautiful.

But then Mary dropped down, catching a trapeze, reining Bruce back into the show. The anxiety in the room rose, disbelief that this child would actually be a participant in the death-defying act. John and Mary swung like twin pendulums, back and forth, back and forth. Then the boy, Dick Grayson, grabbed onto his trapeze. Neither Bruce nor his date breathed, both of them sitting still as they watched.

Dick swung down. Bruce’s heart lurched with him, the act reminding him of every sweep he did through the city on a zipline, every defiance of gravity with his paracape.

What happened next was fast. Dick released the bar, landed in his mother’s grip. They swung back to the father, John threw Dick backwards, and with a flying somersault, Dick landed onto the opposite platform. 

Bruce’s date tore herself away from him, standing up to clap. It wasn’t until she broke away that Bruce remembered that she was there. For a moment, he had been so transfixed that nothing else mattered. It had just been him, the spotlight, and the boy. 

Dick stood on the platform, absorbing the applause. He bowed and waved back. He turned as he waved, and for a moment, Bruce believed that his eyes landed on him. But it was impossible. Before Bruce could grasp the feeling that rose inside of him when Dick looked in his direction, the show had resumed. Dick was back on a trapeze and the magic began again.

Bruce didn’t argue when his date insisted that they try to go backstage to meet the cast. In just a single night, she had become a fan, and Bruce felt the same. The night had lived up to the growing reputation of Haly’s Circus, and while Bruce was normally eager to return somewhere private once a date was finished, he couldn’t get the performance out of his mind.

“I just can’t believe how young and talented that boy was,” his date said, and Bruce was relieved she had said it before him. The thought had been burned into his mind, just as permanently as the glow on the boy’s face as he smiled.

Bruce’s celebrity status did come with perks. They were easily led in and almost immediately intercepted by Haly, the owner of the circus. He eagerly introduced them to the nearby performers, who all seemed a mixture of nervous and excited as they shook hands with Gotham billionaire Bruce Wayne.

There were so many names and faces to learn. Bruce only really paused when Haly waved the aerialists over.

“Mary, John, come over here.”

Bruce’s breath stilled inside his chest as the aerialists moved toward him. John and Mary both had dazzling smiles, but it was the small figure that clung to their shadows that Bruce was drawn to. Bruce’s expression remained composed, even as he snuck glances at the beautiful boy.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” Mary said, blinking with surprise. Bruce offered his best, flattered smile.

“Yes, it is, he watched the show and wanted to meet the cast,” Haly said.

“Well, I hope you two enjoyed the show,” John said, shaking hands with Bruce and then his date. Bruce noticed the way his date clung to John’s hand a second longer.

“I loved it,” she said. Suddenly her cheeks glowed. She released John’s hand, eyes flickering to Mary then back to John. “You’re both very talented.”

“Oh, right, this is our son, Dick,” John said, pushing Dick forward almost a little too eagerly.

Dick offered a smile—a contained one, compared to the brilliant joy he exhibited during the show. One filled with the expected mix of intrigue and fluttery trepidation that came with meeting a celebrity. Bruce offered his hand for Dick to shake, which Dick shook with childlike enthusiasm. Bruce watched their joined hands, observing the difference in the sizes, the way his hand seemed to completely engulf the boy’s. Dick seemed to hold onto Bruce, not quite letting go, but Bruce made sure to release them, quickly turning his gaze back up at the boys’ parents. Nothing in their expressions seemed to be phased by the handshake, which for Bruce, had seemed to last a lifetime. He already missed the soft, warm kiss of Dick’s palm against his. 

“You should all be very proud,” Bruce said.

“I can introduce you to the acrobats,” Haly began, and before Bruce could even begin to feel the ache of their short meeting, Dick suddenly piped up.

“I could show them around,” he said, eyes brightening. Mary immediately put her hands on Dick’s shoulders, reining him back to her hip.

“I’m sure Mr. Haly can handle this just fine.”

“But I know the circus better than anyone!”

The adults laughed warmly, save for Mary, who smiled at the important guests with apologetic eyes.

“I’d love to have Dick give me a tour,” Bruce said. When Mary looked at him, seeming almost embarrassed, Bruce waved it off. “I love kids.”

“I’d like to meet everyone first,” Bruce’s date offered gently, a tone of suggestion in her voice. She had already made her stance on children very clear at the beginning of the night. She loved Dick’s talent, but didn’t want to hang around in a child’s presence. Bruce respected that and still found her to be an enjoyable date, but it was too late. Dick had already captured his interest, stealing him away from her.

“It shouldn’t take too long. Why don’t you go meet the acrobats? I’ll meet you back here,” Bruce said.

Bruce’s date pursed her lips but didn’t argue. She immediately started to direct questions at Haly and John.

Mary still seemed a touch worried, her gaze lingering on Bruce and Dick. Bruce bristled in place, wondering if he had done something to set off Mary’s motherly instincts, but then John touched her arm.

“Just let them go, Dick knows the area just fine,” he said. He pointed a finger at Dick. “Stay away from the stage equipment. You know the rules.”

“I know, I know,” Dick said, giving his father a send-off salute. John returned it and then guided his wife back to the others.

Bruce’s eyes fell where Dick began to tug on his sleeve. Then his gaze travelled up to Dick, who smiled at him once they locked gazes.

“Come on,” he said. Bruce found something inviting and sweet in his voice—like warm honey. Bruce was already hooked; he would have followed Dick anywhere.

Bruce quickly understood why John had left Dick alone with a stranger—it was because they weren’t alone. Not really. The whole circus was a family. There wasn’t a person that Dick couldn’t introduce to Bruce—he knew all of them and they all knew him. So many names and faces were thrown at him that Bruce hardly remembered any of them. He only focused on the way that Dick excitedly tugged him along by the wrist, or the way that Dick would smile up at him as he anticipated a reaction to every new thing that he taught Bruce, or the way Dick would laugh at the performers’ stunts.

Many times, Bruce had to mentally pull himself back. He was acting like a schoolboy with a crush. If he wasn’t careful, someone would notice his strange attraction to Dick.

If he wasn’t careful, he might get too attached.

Dick took him to see the elephant pen. The boy hopped up, trying to see the elephant through the horizontal slot near the top of the gate. Bruce watched him for a moment, then drew near.

“Do you need a lift?”

“She might not be in here,” Dick said, ignoring his offer. Bruce felt a bit wounded that he was rejected.

Dick knelt on the grass, trying to peek in the sliver of space beneath the gate. Bruce crouched next to him. His gaze trained on Dick’s bent back, watching the lines that drew up his spine to his narrow shoulders. The leotard was sleeveless, exposing the smooth, rounded, brown shoulders.

Bruce’s breath stilled. He tore his gaze away. On either side of them, there were just animal pens. Not a human in sight. 

Bruce could feel his own heartbeat.

He looked back at Dick. His black hair curled at his hairline, mixed with the glisten of sweat on his nape. Heat rushed through Bruce’s body. Dick was exactly the type of boy that he dreamt of—dark hair, light eyes, a body that was long and lithe, with developing muscles in areas, undeniably boyish and yet delicate. The perfect balance of strong and pretty.

Bruce would hate himself if he left without ever testing that soft skin once.

So he touched Dick.

His fingertips gently pressed against Dick’s shoulders, slowly easing into a hold. Bruce’s hand eclipsed Dick’s shoulder. Bruce’s heart was pounding fast, his blood hot. He closely eyed Dick’s naked nape, the shell of his ear, the contour of his collarbone, wanting to kiss and suck every inch of perfect skin.

Dick suddenly sat up straight, looking at Bruce.

“Is it okay that I’m touching you?” Bruce asked.

Dick only looked confused after Bruce had asked. He hadn’t even noticed or cared until Bruce pointed it out. Bruce mentally reminded himself to relax.

“I don’t mind,” Dick said, but then it was time for him to stand up. “I think she’s in the animal trailer. Come on.”

Much like the trapeze act, Bruce only felt relieved when their hands joined once again.

They walked across the grounds. No one was around to watch them. There was nothing but the sound of their feet in the dirt, gravel, and grass. When they got to the metal trailer, Dick took Bruce’s earlier offer:

“Lift me up.”

Bruce’s blood burned hot when Dick led his hand toward his narrow waist. Bruce’s hand settled on the smooth fabric of Dick’s gear, hot and damp with sweat. Bruce tried to stifle his reaction, barely breathing. The only separation between them was a thin piece of clingy fabric.

Bruce lifted Dick up. He was so light that it was hardly any trouble at all. Dick cupped his hands to peek into the dark trailer.

“I see her! Look!”

Bruce didn’t want to lower Dick, but he had to. He immediately missed the feeling of Dick in his arms when he let go. Bruce looked inside the trailer, seeing the sleeping elephant. It wasn’t a very exciting view, not after he had just watched the elephant give a performance, but he hyped up his excitement for Dick’s sake.

“Wow, she’s huge,” Bruce said, looking back at Dick. Dick grinned and Bruce was happy that his answer pleased him.

“If you come to our other shows, you’ll see the horses. You are coming to our other shows, right?” Dick said, looking up at him.

This boy was already as enamored as Bruce was with him. 

How could he deny him now?

“Anytime you’re in town, I’ll see you,” Bruce said, daring to ruffle the boy’s hair. 

Bruce was obsessed.

He bided his time. Made sure that the timing was right when he saw the Flying Graysons again.

He happened to be at a Wayne Enterprises conference in Vegas when Haly’s Circus made their tour-stop there. That was his excuse. In truth, he could have skipped this conference, the same as he skipped most of them, but the opportunity was too perfect.

Now, he had a reason to see the boy.

Even after careful plotting, he couldn’t contain himself from rushing to see Dick. Haly’s Circus had already set up their tents but the performers were still practicing. Bruce made conversation with Haly, all the while glancing in the direction of the trapeze artists. 

Bruce was already anticipating meeting Dick the moment that the Graysons finished up their practice. He was hyper aware of his presence, eyes always darting towards him. The moment he saw the boy running towards him out of the corner of his eye, it took all his willpower to keep turned away, to pretend that he hadn’t been staring.

“Bruce!” Dick said, eyes brightening. He hurried to Bruce’s side, hugging him around the middle. Bruce was surprised, but not at all unwelcoming, of the hug. He wrapped his arms loosely around Dick, returning it. He could feel his blood racing when Dick breathed into his shirt, that soft sigh brushing against Bruce’s body.

“I was hoping to run into you. Where were you?” Bruce said. As if he didn’t know.

“Just practicing,” Dick said, pulling away. God, Bruce had missed those baby blue eyes. The way they crinkled and sparkled as he spoke. He liked the casual, easy-going shrug of Dick’s strong yet smooth shoulders. Their other meeting had been brief, too brief, but Bruce had remembered Dick’s eyes and the feel of his skin too well. “It’s good to warm up.”

“I see,” Bruce said. He reached out, massaging Dick’s shoulders. He wanted to touch them again. Needed to. But there were people around, so he exaggerated the movements of his hands, looking more like a coach hyping up their boxer before a match. Dick caught on, laughing at Bruce. Bruce loved his laugh, so his hand travelled deeper into the crook of his, tickling the skin there. Dick tried to catch his hand between the shrug of his shoulder and his face, and failed, so he just laughed hard and tore away from him. Bruce let him go, not wanting to draw attention to them, but excitement thrummed in his veins. He would have loved to keep touching Dick, to make him laugh until he was breathless.

“You should watch me!” Dick said, starting back toward the ropes. Then he stopped, looking at Bruce. “You do have time to watch, right?”

Bruce didn’t want him to go. He could still imagine the feel of his soft skin. But the light in Dick’s eyes was too difficult to resist.

“I have time,” Bruce said.

Dick’s smile widened. A smile just for Bruce. Bruce stared, knowing that he had caused that smile. He watched as Dick took off, eager to fly for him.

It reached a point where they were beyond pretending that their meetings were by chance. Bruce flew out to Star City on his private jet for no other reason than to watch the Flying Graysons. To watch Dick.

He wanted Dick, but he couldn’t have Dick. So the next best thing would be to keep Dick close.

Before Bruce knew it, he found himself leaning against a wall in Haly’s trailer. Haly was sitting at a table, flipping through the papers in front of him. Haly read for a moment, then turned to Bruce sharply, raising his eyebrows.

“You want to sponsor Haly’s Circus?” Haly said.

“Do you oppose?”

“To a sponsorship? No, of course not. But to be stationed in Gotham…”

“You mentioned that you own property there. Not to mention it’s my hometown, the same city where Wayne Enterprises is located. It’d be more convenient that way. Besides, your performers all have families that are getting older. It might be good for them to be stationed in one place. To have a home.”

Haly looked at the papers for a good moment, scrubbing at his face. Bruce watched him closely, wondering about the furrow of Haly’s brow. Something about Gotham was worrying Haly.

“I’ll think about it. Really, I will,” Haly said. Bruce handed him a business card before he headed off. Then it was time to search for the Graysons. 

He was pointed in the direction of the Graysons’ trailer. When he knocked on the screen door, he wasn’t anticipating Dick to be the one who answered. Bruce was used to Dick’s face by now, and yet every time they were apart, it felt like an eternity. Crossing paths felt like coming home, and Dick was equally breathtaking each time. 

Bruce was seeing Dick almost immediately after his performance. His face was still slightly flushed, his hair tousled. He had changed out of his circus outfit into a shirt too big for him and shorts that were too short. It was hard for Bruce not to stare at the spot where the lightweight fabric brushed against slender thighs.

Dick lit up when he saw Bruce. The two stayed in contact between Bruce’s visits. John and Mary encouraged the relationship, seeing Bruce as a mentor as he emailed Dick about school, work, and his talent as a young aerialist.

“My mom and dad are visiting next door, but you can come in. They should be back soon,” Dick said, holding the door open.

Bruce hesitated, knowing that a lot hinged on that door. Being alone with Dick was never a good idea. Bruce, more and more with every meeting, gave into his temptations. Including the moment where he stepped into that doorway.

The trailer was narrow and long. Upon first entering, Bruce noticed a kitchen, a table with benches, a TV. Bruce followed Dick deeper into the trailer, listening as Dick explained things. Dick showed Bruce the bathroom. The shower wasn’t much more than a place to stand with a showerhead and a bucket. In the hall, before the bedroom where John and Mary slept, there was an area closed off with a makeshift curtain made from an old quilt.

“This is my bed,” Dick said, parting the curtain. Bruce looked at what appeared to be an old window bench attached to the wall, one that was turned into a makeshift bed for Dick. Dick crawled in and looked at Bruce expectantly. Bruce ducked his head, climbing in after him. His large adult body fit awkwardly on the bench, but there were so many blankets and sheets that it still felt comfortable.

“Lay down like this,” Dick said, laying flat on his back.

Bruce’s heart started to beat faster as he placed himself next to Dick. If Dick wasn’t so small, they wouldn’t have been able to fit on the bench together. Bruce’s shoes hung over the edge, propped against the wall. He could feel Dick’s warm body pressed to him, where they laid side by side. Bruce didn’t breathe.

He looked up at the low ceiling to see what Dick saw. Plastered over the ceiling were Dick’s drawings, magazine cut-outs, newspaper clippings of the Flying Graysons, and glow-in-the-dark plastic stars.

“Did you draw that?” Bruce said, pointing to a colored pencil rendering of Superman. He already knew the answer.

“Yup,” Dick said. Dick pointed at another picture. “Look, that’s you.”

Dick was pointing at a photo cut out of some editorial that Bruce didn’t remember being a part of.

Bruce stared at that photo which hovered over Dick’s bed, feeling all the more aware of where their bodies touched, more aware of Dick’s natural scent that lingered on every inch of skin and every pillow and every sheet in that confined space.

Bruce’s eyes travelled downwards. Dick was on his back with one leg lying straight, the other bent at the knee. Bruce noticed raised skin on Dick’s knee, a scar that had healed a shade lighter than his normal complexion. Without thinking, Bruce rested his hand on Dick’s knee, his thumb stroking over the skin.

“Where did you get this?” Bruce asked. He felt Dick shrug, his shoulders moving against the makeshift mattress.

“Bike accident last summer.”

Bruce froze when he felt Dick’s hand trace a dark mark on his forearm. Bruce watched as Dick stroked the skin, imitating Bruce. His small thumb felt so light against his skin.

“What about you?” Dick said.

“A burn mark from opening the oven.” From the hot metal of a bullet that grazed him, but Dick didn’t need to know that.

Dick said nothing. His eyes seemed distant, mesmerized. Bruce turned over on his side. Dick’s gaze moved up towards him, watching as Bruce leaned over him. They looked at each other for a moment. Bruce brushed back the boy’s long bangs, revealing those pretty blue eyes.

“Do you still not mind?”

“Mind what?”

“If I touch you.”

Dick’s eyes searched his. He had that same expression from the first time Bruce had asked him that question—that the option that he _would_ mind was a possibility that he hadn’t considered. Bruce’s touch came naturally to Dick, he never questioned it. That comforted Bruce.

Dick’s expression was curious and unafraid.

“I don’t mind.”

Bruce said nothing. He didn’t breathe. His hand travelled up Dick’s skinny knee to his soft thigh. He watched Dick’s expression shift, _melt_ , from the tenderness of his touch. And Bruce was tender, in a way that he hadn’t been in a very long time, in a way that reminded him of being a child again, when he was learning the feel of every new object. For too long, Bruce handled everything he touched with utilitarian purpose, without any curiosity or wonder. Not now. Now, he was touching what he had wanted for so long and was suddenly too weak to resist. Now, he was touching where he shouldn’t. When Dick watched him closely, eyes filled with that same wonder, Bruce felt his desire grow, his hand slipping up the opening of Dick’s shorts.

At that, Dick grew hesitant. His knees drew together, almost clamping Bruce’s hand between them.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, whispering with the knowledge that this was a secret. That this was forbidden, somehow.

It didn’t deter Bruce. He loved that Dick was so perceptive, so precocious.

“I’m touching you. I want to touch more of you. Will you let me?”

“Why are you touching me there? Why do you want to touch me?”

“Because that’s what people do when they like each other.” At that, something in Dick’s expression softened. His eyes scanned over Bruce thoughtfully. He was unusually silent. Bruce hadn’t realized how nervous he was until that moment. He could barely breathe. His overexcitement had distracted him from the fears of rejection. He wasn’t even sure if he could bear it if Dick turned him away now.

Bruce stopped when he felt a light touch on his arm. Dick’s long lashes shadowed over his eyes as he stared downward, watching his own hand crawl up Bruce’s arm over that scar. Bruce’s body burned at the feeling of Dick’s delicate fingers. Even the simplest, gentlest of Dick’s touches was driving him mad.

Bruce’s mouth felt dry as his hand finally slid up Dick’s shorts and landed between his legs, gently touching the soft shape of his cock over the layer of his briefs. Dick’s eyes fluttered. The slightest intake of breath made Bruce hard and aching.

“Has anyone touched you here?” Bruce asked.

“No—I don’t think so,” Dick said. His voice was quiet, his cheeks warm. He was embarrassed over something he didn’t quite understand.

“Do you touch yourself here?”

Dick didn’t answer at first. He was squirming. Bruce could feel the heat coming off of him. He leaned in closer to the boy, burying his face in the boy’s soft hair, breathing in his scent. Dick grabbed onto Bruce’s arm tighter, holding on for purchase as Bruce continued to fondle and grope him. Bruce was pleased when he felt Dick’s cock responding to him, his tiny member growing against his palm.

“No,” Dick finally said, his voice breathy. He responded so beautifully, so perfectly to Bruce’s every touch, every word. He was made for him, Bruce was sure of it. Some emotion flickered across Dick’s eyes. A thought. He looked at Bruce and mumbled, “But I’ve seen Mom and Dad touch each other down there.”

Bruce’s heartrate picked up. He carried this new information.

“I see. Your Mom and Dad must love each other very much.”

He felt Dick nod against him. Bruce’s hand squeezed a little tighter around Dick’s cock, the boy tensing against him, his voice giving the softest of whimpers behind closed lips. He was so perfect.

“Can you keep a secret for me, Dick?” Bruce said, now looking at Dick fully, searching for his eyes. Dick looked back at him, his eyes glazed over with pleasure, his kissable lips trembling.

“What?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this. Only I want to be able to touch you like this. Don’t let anyone else know, okay?”

Dick seemed puzzled. With a scout’s solemnity, he nodded.

“I won’t tell.”

“Good. Can I kiss you, Dick?”

“Kiss,” Dick repeated thoughtfully. His lips pursed ever so slightly, and he was so sweet, so precious, that Bruce couldn’t help but smile a little. Dick seemed a bit stunned by his smile.

Bruce lifted Dick’s chin, kissing him fully on the mouth. Dick’s lips were wet and velvet soft. The feeling of them broke something inside of Bruce. Bruce filled the boy’s mouth with his thick tongue. His kiss grew greedier and greedier. His mind raced with thoughts of this boy. This perfect boy. His sweet, innocent kiss.

Months and months of holding back came rushing through him. Every imagined kiss, every imagined touch. Every fantasy of Dick’s naked skin, voice and body winding with pleasure. Bruce’s blood raced hot, holding Dick tightly to his body, kissing him deeper.

Dick moaned against Bruce’s kiss. Bruce kept him close, his hand stroking Dick faster. Dick squirmed, bucked his hips, wriggled like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to escape or if he wanted more. Bruce listened to the boy’s quickening breaths, couldn’t resist groaning in return. This perfect boy. His perfect boy. His perfect boy who loved to be kissed and touched. 

They had waited so long for this, Bruce was certain of it. This boy who talked to him on the phone and ran to hug him and posted pictures of him above his bed… he was practically begging for it. But now, everything was fine, it was all fine. 

Bruce wasn’t going to hold back anymore. 

He was going to give Dick everything he wanted.

Dick broke away from the kiss, breathing as if he was starved for air. He gasped against the crook of Bruce’s neck, small breaths of air tickling at his Adam’s apple, body writhing in his grip. Bruce quickened his hand, listening to every delicious gasp and whine.

“What are you doing to me?” Dick managed to say, his voice strangled with pleasure.

“Just relax. I’m going to make you feel good,” Bruce whispered back, kissing the top of his head. He wanted to keep kissing him but they would have time. Other opportunities.

Bruce wished the moment could last forever. But there had been too much anticipation, too much excitement. Dick suddenly grabbed him hard, suppressing his last moan as he finished. His cock twitched and throbbed against Bruce’s palm, his dry orgasm rushing through his body, thighs quivering and toes clenching. Dick panted hard when he was finished and Bruce just wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

Bruce was very understanding of Dick. All of this must have been overwhelming to him. Dick even said he hadn’t experienced such a feeling before. It was understandable that he finished so early, especially after so much time apart from Bruce. Hopefully Haly would accept the sponsorship so that Dick could be closer, so Bruce could give Dick what he wanted and desired every night.

“You’ve been so patient,” Bruce said.

“Patient?”

“I know you’ve wanted this for a long time. I did, too.”

Dick was silent at that, his eyes deep in thought. He seemed almost puzzled by Bruce’s words.

“This,” Dick repeated, the slightest tone of questioning in his voice.

Before Bruce could respond, he heard noises outside. Bruce sat up just as the door to the trailer opened. Before he could instruct Dick on anything, Dick was already fixing himself up, pulling his clothes and hair back in place. They both exited the bench. Bruce stood up, happening to lock eyes with John just as he climbed up the steps.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne,” John said, a slight inflection of surprise in his tone. His eyes then moved to the hanging quilt. Before Bruce could think of anything to say, Dick piped up.

“I was just showing Bruce our house and my drawings. Can I show him your room?”

“I don’t think Mr. Wayne is going to want to see our room,” Mary said, now just entering. There was a tone of amusement to her voice. She peeked over John’s shoulder, her husband blocking the narrow hallway. “Can we help you with anything? We have drinks in the fridge.”

Bruce offered his most charming smile, ignoring John’s cautious look.

“Yes, I’d love a drink.”

As the Graysons turned toward the kitchen, Bruce glanced down at Dick. Dick had a serious expression on his face, his lips moving as he mouthed to Bruce his promise:

_I won’t say anything_.

He was agreeing to keep their secret.

A feeling of satisfaction bloomed inside of Bruce’s chest.

Dick’s small arms were linked around his shoulders. His body was shaking, trembling. Bruce could feel the surface of the dresser quaking underneath Dick’s wriggling. 

Bruce’s two fingers finally pushed all the way inside of Dick, all the way down to the knuckle. Bruce looked down between their bodies. He could see how Dick’s small body struggled to keep Bruce inside of him, his hole fluttering around the digits inside of him. Dick was sweating around his hairline, and it wasn’t just from the performance.

“Good boy. You’ve been practicing,” Bruce said. His tone was even and kind, hiding the ravenous hunger he felt at the thought of Dick finger-fucking himself in his trailer every night, only the layer of quilt protecting their secret. The idea should have scared Bruce—but it didn’t. He felt this arrogant possessiveness over Dick, a feeling that grew and grew the longer they interacted, the more the secret built and built. 

It was this arrogance that allowed him to do reckless things like this—fingering Dick in his dressing room, when anyone could walk in on them. Bruce didn’t care. He owned this circus. With the amount of money and care he offered, he practically owned Dick, too. He convinced himself that Dick was his. No one could love or care for Dick the way that he did, not even his parents. They were made for each other. Everyone else was just in their way.

“Bruce,” Dick started to say, then his mouth closed, containing a moan. Bruce loved it when he did that, loved the way his entire expression screwed up when he was trying to be quiet.

“What is it?”

Dick breathed. He looked into Bruce’s eyes, as if trying to communicate something.

“Are you going to come, Dick? It’s alright,” Bruce said. One hand worked his fingers deep inside of Dick, not so much thrusting as massaging him from the inside, exploring the limits of his tight walls. The other hand crept toward the boy’s tiny cock, massaging it. 

Dick’s face was deeply flushed. He couldn’t hold still. His body arched upward, meeting the strokes and thrusts of Bruce’s hands.

“No—“Dick started, but then his voice was a jumbled mess, moaning and sobbing as tremors raced through his body.

Bruce stroked Dick through his orgasm, letting him finish. Dick seemed to melt in place, breathing hard, his pupils dilated. Bruce released him, kissing the top of Dick’s head.

“You should finish getting changed,” Bruce said. But just as he was about to leave, Dick grabbed onto his arm.

“Bruce?”

Bruce turned to him, that voice pulling at his heart, the same way it had since they first met all those months ago. But just as quickly as Bruce looked at Dick, he felt his heart sink. Dick’s expression was quiet and concerned.

“What is it, Dick?”

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it for real?” Dick said, gaze downcast.

He seemed almost afraid of asking. Bruce instantly knew what Dick was talking about—Bruce had promised him that all this practice was leading up to them making love. 

It made Bruce’s heart ache. He returned to Dick, brushing back the boy’s bangs.

“You’re doing so good, Dick. But we have to wait.”

“Why?”

“Because if we rush, we might get caught. People will find out our secret.”

“But why is it a secret?”

Bruce could only look at Dick. It was a shame that they had to hide their relationship. Even with Haly’s Circus in Gotham, Dick was still out of his reach. The location didn’t matter. The fact of the matter was that Dick couldn’t be his, not as long as there was a chance of them getting caught.

Still, Bruce stroked Dick’s hair.

“Just be patient. We’ll be together one day.”

Dick nodded obediently. He slid off the dresser and fixed his clothes. When he turned to Bruce, Bruce leaned in for one last kiss.

Bruce heard a click.

He pulled away from Dick just as the door opened.

John was in the doorway.

John was silent, just standing there. Bruce’s senses were going off. It was suspicious enough for Bruce to be in Dick’s dressing room. But the way that John stood still… he had to have seen something. He must have. 

But John didn’t scream. He didn’t push Bruce into a wall or punch him in the face. He did nothing.

“Hey, Dad,” Dick said, running up to him. John scruffed his hair, an uneven smile on his face as he looked at his son.

This wasn’t good.

Bruce stuffed his hands in his pockets. His heart was racing.

“Your mom’s looking for you. She’s backstage,” John said.

“Okay,” Dick said. He gave both John and Bruce one final glance before leaving them alone together.

John’s head had followed Dick out the door and stayed there long after he was gone. In that silence, Bruce could feel his internal panic beginning to simmer. He straightened his back. He didn’t want to be afraid anymore. Dick was his. He cared for him, loved him, deeper than John ever could. If John wanted to fight over it, then let him. Or he could sit in his cowardly silences. It made no difference to Bruce.

“Shouldn’t you go to them?” Bruce said. He refused to leave first.

John turned to him sharply.

“I know what’s going on here,” John said. Even though his body faced Bruce, his head was lowered, refusing to make eye contact. He was too furious. Bruce could read the tension in his body, the way he glared at the ground. Bruce waited for him to continue. “Mary had suspicions first. The way you followed us around, the messages, the gifts, the money—I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to believe that you were the charitable Bruce Wayne that everyone talked about—but ever since I saw you two in our trailer together… I started to wonder if she was right about you getting too close to our son. And now, just now, you’re in his _dressing room_. Completely alone. Standing so close—”He stopped himself short, his face twisted in a look of disgust and disbelief. His chin lifted. He stared Bruce dead in the eye, his face flipping into cold rage. Bruce had fought many men and had never seen someone with so much hate directed at him. “You stay the hell away from us.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Bruce said.

“The hell with that,” John snapped, volume rising. His voice broke as he shouted, “You’re after my son. My kid!”

“I care about him. These fears that you’re inventing—I can only imagine why you would jump to such a conclusion. When I try to think of the reason for it… well, it’s worrisome that you would even think that.”

That shocked John enough to make him back up a step.

“Excuse me?” he said, incredulous.

Bruce stared at him deeply, eyes cold.

“I care about your son. I can help your family. Everyone sees that. And yet, you’re afraid. You make the most serious accusation a person _can_ make. You’re afraid of me getting close to him. You’re afraid of me taking your place as his father.”

Bruce admittedly felt a pang of guilt by the stricken expression on John’s face. The accusation had to have hurt. But quickly, John recovered.

“You have a lot of money and power. There’s no denying that,” John said. His voice was shaking with anger, not fear. And Bruce had to respect that. It was clear that Bruce outmatched John in social status and physical strength. It took courage to stand up to someone like Bruce. “But I’ll hurt anyone who tries to hurt my family. I don’t want to see you near my son or wife.”

“I understand,” Bruce said.

Bruce should have been upset. But he wasn’t.

This was just a minor roadblock. John was right—Bruce did have a lot of money and power. 

But it wasn’t just that. Dick loved him. Just moments ago, he was begging for Bruce to touch him, to be with him. Dick belonged to Bruce, not John, and no one could take that away.

There was a phrase for that. _The heart wants what the heart wants._

It was too late to come between them now.

Bruce wondered if in some way, somehow, he had wished this upon Dick.

The boy had already made a spot for himself in the manor. He liked to sit on the window bench in the parlor. Sometimes he read a book, or would stare out at the garden, or take a nap. The sun would stream in through the glass pane, hitting Dick’s face, haloing his features. When Bruce looked at Dick like that, it reminded him how much he had wanted him, how much he still wanted him.

Perhaps he wanted him so badly that he had caused the Graysons’ misfortune in some way. Or maybe it started earlier than that, that Bruce had been cursed ever since the death of his own parents, and he inflicted that curse on Dick the moment they had met.

He watched that boy sitting on the same side of the window as him, under the roof of his home, and then measured the distance between them.

The boy was mourning. Bruce knew that Dick would come to him when he was ready. And he did. It was in the dark of the night. Bruce had reeled back on his nightly duties, changing his patrol hours so he and Dick could both acclimate to change. 

Bruce had finally been catching up on sleep, but the creak of his bedroom door woke up his trained instincts. He was a statue in his bed, listening to the light groans on the floorboards near the door, followed by footsteps so light that Bruce could barely hear them crossing the room.

He knew it was Dick even before he heard the whisper of his name. Bruce tensed in place, wondering if he should pretend that he didn’t hear. The sound of Dick softly breathing his name was too much for Bruce to bear. He was highly aware of Dick’s presence in his bedroom, tracking the boy as he moved closer and closer to the bed. Bruce felt the weight of him as a hand dipped the mattress.

Too close.

This was wrong. Bruce could still hear the words of the late John Grayson, warning Bruce to stay away from his child. Bruce couldn’t let Dick come any closer. But when he heard that tentative whisper of his name again, Bruce finally answered.

He sat up, turning on his bedside table. Dick flinched from the light, rubbing his tired eyes.

“I can’t sleep. Can I stay here?” Dick asked. There was a quiet, almost sheepish tone to his voice. He was afraid to admit that he needed a body next to his, the same way that a young Bruce went to his parents over every nightmare—right up until he had no one to turn to.

He couldn’t turn Dick away. Bruce saw Dick as a mirror of his younger self. He thought so ever since he first met that prodigious, black-haired, blue-eyed boy. Even their tragedies were the same. They were two broken halves of a whole. Bruce’s loneliness dissipated when they were together. 

But the way that Bruce wanted Dick was still very, very wrong.

Dick was waiting on his answer. His eyes were too naked, every fear palpable. He was afraid of being turned away.

“I can wait in your room until you fall asleep,” Bruce offered. A safe in-between, he told himself, but even the idea of watching Dick fall asleep made his body turn hot. Would he be able to resist climbing into bed with him?

Dick’s eyes averted. He didn’t want to show Bruce his disappointment.

“Alright, then,” Bruce said. He gave in far too easily, he knew that, and yet he invited temptation anyways.

The boy’s eyes brightened for the first time in days. Instead of climbing onto the empty spot beside Bruce, Dick climbed over Bruce. Bruce remained composed as the boy crawled over him, even as Dick’s body touched his. Their bodies touched too briefly—Bruce wished he could have just held Dick to his chest.

Dick landed on the bed next to him. Bruce moved to turn off the bedside light.

“Bruce?” Dick asked quietly. Bruce stopped, hand resting on the lamp switch. There was something in his tone that pulled at Bruce. A tone that seemed both scared and wounded. Bruce turned around to face Dick, taken aback by the sadness in his expression.

Bruce immediately lifted himself up on one arm, the other reaching over to gently squeeze Dick’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you still like me?”

Bruce froze. Dick’s eyes were averted. He was waiting on Bruce’s answer, but he seemed to have already assumed the reply, bracing himself for disappointment. Bruce searched his memories, trying to imagine what he had done to make this boy even ask such a question. 

Bruce had created too much distance between them, trying to let Dick mourn. That’s what caused Dick’s doubt.

Maybe it wasn’t about what Bruce had done at all. Maybe it was what he _hadn’t_ done.

His mind went back to the night that changed them forever. The first time he had kissed Dick. They had been laying like this, only in Dick’s bed instead of his, with Dick to his left. Bruce had touched him, feeling Dick’s satin skin, and he had said, _that’s what people do when they like each other_.

Bruce rose in place and Dick watched him, cautious but intrigued. Dick looked so beautiful in his bed, dark hair spread across white pillowcases and sheets.

Bruce leaned in closer and Dick’s eyes automatically fell shut. He was so perfect, always knowing exactly what Bruce wanted, never questioning his desires, always reciprocating his fucked-up needs. Bruce kissed him, washing away any fears Dick might have had about Bruce not loving him enough. Bruce would touch Dick. He would love him and nothing would separate them, especially not a promise to a ghost.

Finally, finally, no one could stop them.

Those were the thoughts that consumed Bruce as he kissed Dick. There was a hardness, a possessiveness, to his kiss. Dick made a sound between their pressed mouths, his lips buzzing against Bruce’s. Bruce felt a swell of heat race through his body.

Every feeling of waiting, yearning, rushed through Bruce as he climbed over Dick, pushing him into the bed. His comparably large body shadowed over Dick’s completely. Hands snaked their way down the waistband of Dick’s pajamas. Bruce’s arousal spiked when Dick’s cock twitched and grew against his hand.

They had waited so long and yet, it was like no time had passed at all, like they had picked up where they left off, right in that dressing room before everything took a turn for the worse. Right before John made his final plea to Bruce before his death. Before they were delayed.

Dick turned his head away from Bruce, trying to catch his breath. His cheeks were so warm, so hot. His chest rose and fell with every shallow breath.

“You don’t have to hold back your voice. We’re safe here,” Bruce said. His own voice was filled with heat and lust. Dick looked at him, face contorted with pleasure. Bruce kissed the corner of his mouth, hand squeezing around the boy’s cock. Dick moaned softly against his cheek, a sound that seemed to strike straight through Bruce’s chest. His heart was beating so fast. Bruce had forgotten what it was like to feel this alive. “You can come to me for anything. Any time you want to feel good, I’ll take care of you.”

Dick looked up at him, face hazy with pleasure. Without even really thinking, Dick’s hands began to push at his shorts. His body was hot and aroused. He felt trapped against Bruce’s hand, and yet he needed more. He needed to be free of his clothes. Needed space to roll and rut his hips into Bruce’s grip. Bruce watched Dick squirm and, realizing what he was doing, hooked his hand around the elastic and yanked, pulling his clothes down his thighs.

Heat rushed through Bruce’s body, hunger filling him. Dick watched as those wolf’s eyes darkened with an intent he didn’t quite understand, but one his body responded to with a flutter in his stomach.

Bruce felt hungry at the sight of skin. He looked at Dick’s tiny, precious cock in his hand. So pretty and perfect. Bruce’s eyes drank in the sight of the soft, smooth shapes of Dick’s thighs and skinny calves. Bruce wanted more. He pulled up Dick’s shirt. Dick opened his mouth to speak and all that escaped was a questioning sound, punctuated by a sudden gasp as Bruce wrapped his mouth around a tiny nipple.

Dick was struck with a mixture of feelings he had never experienced before. He canted his hips, trying to get Bruce to stroke him more, to make him feel that hot friction and heat he created with his hands. His chest arched up toward Bruce’s mouth, who sucked on his nipples, his mouth hot and wet, giving him pleasure that he had never even considered much less practiced.

Bruce felt himself growing harder and harder with every twist and turn of Dick’s body. Every moan and gasp and whimper drew him in, made him addicted. He should have stopped. He knew it was wrong. He was tarnishing the final wishes of Dick’s dead parents. But with every stroke across Dick’s beautiful skin, Bruce knew he wouldn’t stop.

And it was both the most empowering and liberating feeling in the world, to know that this boy was his, that they would be sharing a bed every night. Bruce would teach him every way of pleasure, would hold him and keep him safe. He’d do all the things Mary and John couldn’t—and more.

Bruce looked at Dick, his free hand pushing back Dick’s disheveled hair, thumb stroking over his doll-like cheek. Dick looked at him with those drunk, hazy eyes, those plush lips parted. Bruce grazed the boy’s pink mouth with his fingers, and felt a thrum in his veins as Dick gently kissed the pad of his thumb.

Dick’s expression suddenly contracted into pleasure, an elongated moan escaping him. Bruce’s hand quickened, tugging on the boy’s cock. Dick’s eyes turned to him, a flicker of confusion crossed with the pleasure that flooded him.

“It feels good,” he breathed. It was his way of begging for more. Bruce nodded in understanding, his hand quickening.

“Good,” Bruce said.

Bruce absorbed every gasp, every moan. Dick’s eyes squeezed shut, body writhing on the mattress with pleasure. In moments, he was finishing, a cry breaking inside his throat, his cock twitching and throbbing in Bruce’s hand as he came. Dick’s entire body seized up as the pleasure raced through his body and Bruce stroked him through it, until Dick finally whined and grabbed onto Bruce’s wrist, making him stop.

Dick’s body relaxed into the mattress. He was catching his breath, his chest rising and falling repeatedly. But when his eyes finally opened, they landed on Bruce, and his gaze dared to fall between Bruce’s legs. Bruce was hard. He had never been so hard. And the shape of his erection was visible beneath his nightclothes.

Bruce watched as Dick moved around on the mattress. A breath stilled inside his throat as Dick crawled toward his lap, placing his small hands on top of Bruce. Dick’s hands couldn’t even cover half of the surface of the tops of Bruce’s thighs. Dick looked up at Bruce earnestly and said, “I want to make you feel good too.”

”We should wait, make it special,” Bruce said, brushing his fingers through Dick’s soft hair. He was past pretending that it wouldn’t happen. It was inevitable now.

Dick thought for a moment, feeling the muscles of Bruce’s legs. Bruce tensed under the small strokes of Dick’s hands on his body.

“It could just be my hand. Like how you do it,” Dick said. He looked up at Bruce.

Bruce could imagine it. He imagined the way Dick’s delicate fingers would look and feel around his thick cock, tugging at his erection. His cock throbbed at the thought—but he was afraid. Bruce wanted him too badly. Wanted Dick in a way that made him lose control. They had to take things slow. If they did too much, Bruce could hurt Dick.

But then he looked at Dick. The shape of his face and gentle eyes were angelic but his lips were sinfully tempting. Bruce forced his fears away. Yes, this was the right thing to do. Yes, they had waited long enough.

He pulled himself out of his clothing, already fully erect. The size of Bruce’s erection was more apparent when Dick held him to his face, pressed against his delicate hand and cheek. Bruce swelled in Dick’s light grip.

“You can be more firm,” Bruce instructed. Dick’s touch was so tentative, so featherlike. At Bruce’s encouragement, Dick’s hand hugged Bruce’s cock. Bruce’s breath hitched, which Dick took as a good sign.

Dick tried to stroke and massage Bruce’s cock like Bruce had done to him. His movements were clumsy, awkward. Bruce didn’t care. He breathed steadily, trying to resist pushing into Dick’s grip, resist fucking into Dick. But the entire time Dick pumped his cock, all Bruce could think of was that he wanted more. He wanted to be fast, to be rough. He wanted Dick’s hand, his ass, his—

“Can I use my mouth?”

Bruce thought he imagined the question until he looked down at Dick, who stared back at him with a serious expression. An unexpected, almost nervous, chortle traveled up Bruce’s throat. He stroked Dick’s face affectionately.

“Where did you learn that?”

“You told me about it. A long time ago.”

“And you’ve been thinking about that all this time?”

Dick nodded. Bruce drew in a breath.

After a moment, Bruce finally conceded.

“Go ahead.”

Dick readjusted himself on the bed, laying flat on the mattress, his face ducking toward Bruce’s lap. Bruce’s heart was hammering now. God, he had wanted this. He had spent so many nights, cities away from Dick, dreaming of such a moment—fisting his cock and spilling his seed in his hand, dreaming of Dick’s lips wrapped around him instead, nursing on his cock and taking his seed down his throat.

Bruce willed himself to keep his hands to his sides, letting Dick explore his body at his own pace. Dick leaned in closer, deciding to taste Bruce first. Bruce bristled in place at the first touch of Dick’s velvet mouth. Dick’s soft, wet lips mouthed at his shaft, that small tongue pressed up against him. The anticipation aroused Bruce more than the touch itself. Dick’s soft kisses were shy and inexperienced, just barely brushing against Bruce in a way that made him tense up. Those feathery touches only made Bruce want him more.

“Take me inside of you,” Bruce said when Dick’s kisses and licks began to feel more teasing than exploratory.

Dick hesitated, but only for a moment. His lips slowly swallowed Bruce inside of him. Bruce’s eyes closed as he slipped inside of Dick’s mouth, and he thought _yes_ , he was made to fit inside of Dick’s mouth. Even as Dick’s mouth stretched to its brink to take in Bruce’s girth, even as he suddenly coughed around only the halfway point of Bruce’s length—Bruce believed that Dick was made for him.

And a strong, talented boy in Bruce’s image could certainly handle more.

Bruce tried to restrain himself. He tried to be gentle.

But with every stroke of Dick’s lips, the way the boy awkwardly bobbed his head, the way he sucked tightly around his shaft, Bruce could feel his control slipping away. Dick’s mouth was wet and hot and tight and all Bruce wanted was to fuck into it. To ram his cock in as deep as it could go, to completely bury himself in Dick’s throat.

“Dick,” Bruce managed to breathe. Dick didn’t stop. Didn’t even seem to be listening. He held Bruce in his hand, his mouth stroking the rest of the erection, head lifting up and down and up and down. Bruce’s hand twitched as he resisted the urge to grab Dick’s face and make him pay attention. “Dick, go deeper.”

Dick pulled off of Bruce’s cock, looking up at him. His eyes were hazy, lips swollen and wet. Bruce’s cock throbbed at the sight. Dick glanced at Bruce, sheepish and uncertain.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Bruce insisted, petting Dick’s cheek. Bruce didn’t know that. Dick probably couldn’t. He was too young, too small, too inexperienced. Bruce should train him first. But his cock was hard and Dick was such a good boy, so smart and talented, that Bruce wanted him to do it. He needed him to do it. “Just try to breathe through your nose.”

Dick never hesitated for long. He had that look in his eyes, the same one he had every time he stepped off a platform and onto a trapeze. He took Bruce into his mouth, lips sliding down the shaft. Bruce’s breath swelled inside his chest, his erection now buried deep into Dick’s mouth. His throat.

Dick gagged.

Bruce grabbed onto Dick’s head, stopping him from pulling off. His breathing is deep and ragged now. Adrenaline and heat rushing through his veins.

They’re close. They’re so close.

Bruce won’t stop now. He hadn’t stopped in a long time. Why bother to stop, when Dick is ripe and ready and begging to be fucked?

“That’s it, Dick,” Bruce said. There was something unrecognizable in his voice. Something guttural and animalistic, speaking over Dick as he choked hard, throat convulsing around the tip of Bruce’s cock. Dick’s hands clenched and unclenched on top of Bruce, fighting between pushing Bruce away and trying to keep the invasive member inside of him. “You’re doing so good. Just keep it there.”

Dick’s throat tightened around Bruce’s cock. Bruce’s eyes squeezed shut. Hot pleasure all around him, gripping him. Distantly, he could hear Dick sucking in air desperately through his nose. Bruce’s eyes reopened, and when he looked down at Dick, he suddenly realized the boy was looking back at him.

The boy’s face looked ruined. Mouth stuffed with his cock, the tip of Bruce’s erection rubbing against the boy’s slender throat, eyes leaking with tears.

Bruce groaned at the sight.

This was it.

Dick was finally his.

He didn’t hold back. 

He grabbed Dick by the hair, pulling back and then driving his cock in all the way. Dick’s eyes sprang with fresh tears as the back of his throat was suddenly assaulted. Bruce started to thrust inside his mouth, thick cock sliding across Dick’s tongue. Dick couldn’t keep up, small hands digging into Bruce’s thighs for balance as Bruce began to piston in and out of his mouth, faster and faster.

Dick’s heart raced, panic settling in. He tried his best to hold still, to be good, but it was difficult to breathe. Dick felt like his head was being rattled around. The sounds of his mouth being fucked filled the room, punctuated with wet squelches and coughing.

The head of Bruce’s cock hit the back of Dick’s throat. Dick choked, the walls around his throat closing around Bruce’s cock, squeezing him in a way that made him moan. Difficult to breathe. Dick’s face was burning now, his eyes watering up as he struggled. His mouth was wet and sloppy. As Bruce pulled back, he dragged Dick’s saliva with him. Bruce just found that this made it all the easier for him to slide right back in.

He looked down at Dick’s deeply flushed face. Dick looked back at him, mouth stuffed with a cock that was too big for him, eyelashes wet. Bruce groaned deeply, a hand brushing through Dick’s hair.

“That’s it. That’s a good boy. I’m almost there.”

Dick wanted to believe Bruce. He wanted to hold on. But Bruce’s pace never eased up. He assaulted Dick’s throat again and again, his face repeatedly mashed up against Bruce’s groin. His skin was prickling from the lack of air, his throat convulsing. He started to push off of Bruce’s thighs, to get away, but Bruce was insistent, breathing over him.

“I’m close. You’re doing so good, Dick. Just—“

Dick shut out the husky tones of Bruce’s voice, mentally willing himself to hold on longer, to please Bruce and prove himself, to be the good boy that Bruce expected. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the tears that leaked from his eyes, ignoring everything. He tried to feel nothing, letting Bruce use his mouth as he pleased.

Bruce picked up his pace, fucking Dick’s mouth fast and hard, listening to the boy choke around his cock, the wet sounds of his mouth escaping with every thrust. The boy wrapped himself tightly in Bruce’s lap, otherwise motionless as Bruce used his throat as a sleeve, those walls closing tightly around the repeated assault of his cock.

He felt heat racing through his body, pleasure racing through him with every thrum of Dick’s throat. He was close. So close. Dick made weak protests around his cock, lips humming around Bruce’s erection.

They could do this every night. He would train Dick to take him more and more. Train him to love the taste of his seed. Have him begging to be fucked and fed every night. This was the beginning of their new life together. Bruce would have someone to come home to, Dick would have a father figure, and no one would ever suspect they were anything less than complete.

Bruce buried himself deep inside of Dick, holding him still as he came. He kept Dick there as his pleasure rushed through him in waves, unleashing every spurt of his seed down Dick’s throat. Dick sucked him, having no choice but to swallow. Bruce groaned when he finished, releasing Dick completely once he was through.

Dick all but collapsed onto the bed when Bruce let go. Dick caught himself on his elbows, spitting up copious amounts of come and saliva. His face was sticky with tears and the mess he had just made on himself, the mess dripping down his chin and neck and chest.

He laid there, catching his breath. Bruce watched him, eventually reaching out to soothingly stroke Dick’s shoulder. He was almost afraid that he had gone too far, but his perfect boy did not flinch at his touch. Finally, Dick looked up at Bruce. The boy’s face was deeply flushed, his hair a mess, his mouth and chin filthy.

Bruce wiped away at the mess on his face. He held Dick by the chin, looking him deep in the eyes.

“You’re such a good boy. But you’ll need more practice.”

Dick was quiet for a moment. But then he nodded in agreement.

Practice was what he did best.

There was no feeling to describe coming home to someone. Bruce had underestimated the power of a body warming his bed for him. It gave him a purpose that he was missing before.

He returned from patrol to find Dick asleep in his bed. Bruce silently slipped off his clothes. His body was exhausted from a long, hard night. But all was well. He always spared just enough energy for moments like this.

He crawled over Dick’s body, sliding the boy’s pajamas past the curve of his ass. Bruce’s thumb traced over his entrance. Nowadays, Dick was so well trained that he hardly needed preparation, his body always wet and stretched per Bruce’s instructions.

Bruce stroked himself. He was already partially erect. It wasn’t long before he was slipping inside of Dick’s body.

He was halfway in.

“Bruce?”

The small voice called out to him, half asleep. Bruce didn’t answer Dick right away. He stayed focused on pushing himself inside of Dick.

“Relax,” Bruce commanded when Dick’s walls tightened around him. With a thrust, Bruce buried himself deeper into Dick, finally sliding the rest of the way inside. They both groaned, Dick’s small hands tightening in the bedsheets.

Bruce planted his knees on either side of Dick’s body, rocking forward, grinding deep inside of Dick.

“Bruce?”

This time, Bruce realized Dick wasn’t just calling his name, but trying to speak to him. Bruce slowly pulled out of Dick, taking the spot on the mattress next to him so they could speak. Dick, as perfect as ever, slid his clothes off the rest of the way, climbing on top of Bruce. Bruce breathed softly as Dick lowered onto his hard cock. Just as Bruce wanted.

Dick laid himself over Bruce, their bodies pressed together. Bruce held him, embracing the warmth of his body.

“What is it?” Bruce finally answered.

“This is what people do when they love each other, right?” Dick asked. 

There was a fragility in his voice that worried Bruce.

“Yes,” Bruce answered after a moment.

“Did my parents love me?”

“Of course they did,” Bruce answered at once.

“Did you and your dad ever make love?”

“No,” Bruce said. There was a long pause. In that silence, Bruce stroked Dick’s hair, pondering over how to explain. “This is a special kind of love. Something that parents can’t give their children.” When Dick said nothing, Bruce pushed him for a response. “Did I answer your question?”

“I think so,” Dick said.

Bruce’s hands roamed down Dick’s sides, finally resting at his hips. He held him in place as he rolled his hips, his cock sliding deep inside of Dick. Dick moaned softly, his small cock already erect and pressing against Bruce’s lower stomach.

Dick wrapped himself tighter around Bruce’s body, holding on. And Bruce did the same.

A feeling drifted inside of Bruce’s mind, as it often did when he made love to Dick or was haunted by the ghosts of Dick’s parents. The ghosts of his own parents. Whenever he grappled with the guilt of his actions, he tried to remember the promise he made to Dick.

A promise that he’d love him deeper than his parents ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/lacemonsterbats)


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